


Requiesque curarum

by Cirilla9



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Ancient Rome, Bath Houses, Blink And You Miss It Slash, Canon Compliant, Extended Scene, Fluff, M/M, Military, Pre-Slash, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ancient romans and their fucked up sexuality, for this series this is such an enormous amount of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Cirilla9
Summary: Glaber and Marcus share a moment in a bath house





	Requiesque curarum

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after Gaius totally left Ilithyia in the middle of a foreplay and went to Marcus. (Do you hear this screaming slash potential?) 
> 
> Enjoy if someone's still reading stories from Spartacus series ;)

Leaving Ilithyia unsatisfied, Gaius went straight to the baths, not even bothering to put back on his clothes. After all, Quintus’ villa was only filled with slaves, as good as empty.

“Call Marcus here,” he addressed the slave near the baths’ doors. The boy hurried to fulfill his demand.

“And pour more hot water in here, for fuck’s sake!” he added to the unspecified audience as the pool turned out to be barely warm.

Everything irked him, from Ilithyia’s complaints still ringing in his ears to the slaves tarrying with the simple task as if on purpose to annoy him further, adding even more of a burden to the constant unresolved problem of fugitive gladiators. Even water took longer than it should to warm up. Everything conspired against him.

By the time the two slave girls finally managed to heat up the adequate amount of water and pour a vase of it to the pond, Marcus appeared at the doors, still in full armor, complete with a heavy red cape and a gladius.

“You wanted to see me, praetor.”

“Incompetent brat, that’s how he called me! Can you imagine?” started Gaius without any preamble. Marcus seemed baffled for the briefest moment but caught up with the person in subject soon enough. There were not many men who dared to speak such words to Gaius Claudius Glaber and his father-in-law’s animosity toward him was no secret. The elder senator had arrived to Capua few hours earlier.

Praetor, for his part, seemed to rethink his statement and must have come out with the idea that complaining in this way could be called childish as well for he abandoned the topic. He eyed Marcus up and down.

“Take these off,” he waved in Marcus’ general direction, indicating his clothes in all probability. “We’ve got things to discuss and we can as well do so in the baths but I’m not forcing you to stand and sweat there the whole time. Join me.”

Marcus obeyed, removing his armor efficiently, with the skill of an experienced soldier. Gaius could see all the lean muscles and well-sculpted body, marked by a few battle scars but overall still almost childishly unblemished. The body before him was slimmer than his own but seemed just as strong and with a great deal of admiration but also a bit of remorse, he had to admit the man was visibly younger than he himself. Perhaps even younger than Ilithyia.

The tribune stepped into the pool and waters obscured the view. Gaius directed his thoughts at the intended conversation with some difficulty. Perhaps he shall not left his wife as he did, he could discuss things after… but he quickly let go of that thought. He preferred to have all the affairs settled before moving to more pleasurable aspects of life.

“We need more men,” he announced grudgingly. “After what happened in the market the other day, I cannot allow such a slip again.” He glanced at Marcus, who had defended him that day, drawing his sword when the fugitives attacked, fighting with Spartacus himself briefly, protecting Glaber with his own body without hesitation. “Do you think I’ve made a mistake refusing the help of Seppius’ mercenaries?”

“Some help comes with the praise that is too high to pay. With Seppius’ aid we could catch Spartacus easier and quicker, true, but it will also give them the power and influence over you, praetor, influence that after all is done would not relent but stretch to the Rome itself.”

“And yet you were the one who insisted that I shall use Lucretia’s help.”

“This is different. She's no one. She has no real power, she is but a tool in your hands. She can help us but there is no threat of harm from her side.”

Gaius nodded, leaning a bit more in his seat.

“There still remains the question of additional troops. The number of rebels is constantly growing, many of the slaves sympathizes with them. We keep them alive, give them weapons, teach how to fight and these are the effects. Who could have foreseen they’re living right here, in the canals, under our nose… perhaps even conspiring with our slaves-” Gaius looked around, suddenly suspicious, at all the collared servants, standing beside the walls as quietly and motionlessly as furniture. “Everyone, out!”

The commotion of bare feet padding over wet tiles was short lived and soon the Romans were alone in the room. Gaius caught Marcus’ eyes upon him. There was a strange gleam in them, surrounded by these impossibly long lashes, longer than those of quite a few patrician women, without any make up on the young soldier’s face.

“What?” snapped Glaber. “You’re thinking I’ve got paranoia? That I see Spartacus’ supporters everywhere?”

“No. I was thinking that you seem tense and now that you’ve dismissed all the domestic, there is no one here to give you a proper massage.”

That caught Gaius off guard. While the concern for his well-being was typical for his loyal tribune, the change in the topic was bordering  on flirtatious. Or he was imagining things, the reason supplied and he once more regretted not fucking Ilithyia when she tried to persuade him into it.

“Or I could work the tension out of your muscles if you want to,” proposed Marcus casually.

This conversation was certainly heading into an unexpected direction. This suggestion could mean a lot or it could mean nothing but whichever case it was, whether it had some hidden agenda or not, the proposition was really tempting and Gaius get up before he let himself dwell too much on it.

He stretched upon the bench at the pool side and heard Marcus following him. He did not look back at the splash of water to see it pouring in rivulets down the other’s man body. He certainly should have fuck with Ilithyia before coming here.

Marcus paused to take the vial of scented oil before approaching him. He fiddled with the bottle opening, poured some of the content on his palms, waited for it to warm to the body temperature before setting to his self-appointed task.

Gaius reached the conclusion that the council of how best to erase Spartacus from the Earth surface could wait a moment or two.

They were Romans; they could fuck a boy together, they could fuck a whore both at the same time but the relationship between them such that one would end at the bottom was unthinkable. Cinaedus’ role would be disgraceful, unbefitting to any whom considered himself a man.

It was still nice, though, to feel Marcus’ hands, slick with oil, upon his weary back. Tribune's palms were calloused from years of fighting with a sword, not the delicate ones of a slave girl. His strength was perhaps a little too firm at the beginning but as the tension let go under pressure and warmth gradually, it became pleasurable too. Now Gaius’ muscles yielded to Marcus’ hands as a marble under sculpturer's tools and only pride kept him from purring with delight.

“You’re my best man, Marcus” he murmured.

“I’m honored to hear that, praetor, even if it is only brought by a charm of the moment.” The tribune sounded amused but Gaius thought he heard some melancholy to that also and he felt the sudden urge to assure him in this.

“I may not say it to you in a daylight before all my other men but that doesn’t make it any less of a truth.”

 


End file.
